Well of All Sparks
by valkyrie.fe
Summary: Should have made this a year or so ago. Oh well. From now on, drabble-ish ficlet things for Transformers will go here. Various everything, warnings and labels inside and with each chapter. Character listing reflects the last thing posted and will change.
1. Untitled BlasterSoundwave

**Title:** [none]

**Author: **iron valkyrie

**Rated:** ...PG?

**Fandom:** Transformers G1 (auish)

**Characters/Pairings:** Blaster/Soundwave, mentions Jazz and Prowl.

**Summary:** I honestly have no idea what I should put on a summary for this thing :| Drabbly drabble is drabble.

**Note:** Angst angst angst. I can't. I don't know where this came from, but well, here it is. It's been so long since I wrote something like this so I can't help feeling it's a lot little over the top, but uh... yeah.

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><p>He promised Jazz he'd stop, but somehwere deep in his spark, Blaster is sure his friend knows. Jazz has a knack of knowing his friends better than any of them knew themselves, so he's sure Jazz knew even as he solicited that doomed promise that Blaster would go back. The gentlest caresses against his mind, the ones that echo of Iacon's gilded nightlife and an unspoken imploring, were enough to make him cave every time.<p>

At least Blaster knows he's weak that way, knows that weakness is relied upon and used without hesitation, knows he's helpless even with all this knowledge. He knows he does this all for a radically changed bot, one whose face he hasn't seen in long vorns, and that he will continue to defy orders, to put them at risk, to hurt his best friends, because he is weak.

It still comes as a shock, though, when he's put in the brig the first time. Even if it hadn't, Blaster could not forget it - the only time he remembers Jazz avoiding his gaze. Prowl had no trouble staring him down, nor with doling out more and more brig time each time he learns Blaster was out again. He knows the tactician isn't unsympathetic, just as he knows Jazz is _too_ sympathetic, and that's why he involved Prowl in this at all, even so late in the game.

But the sidelong glances his allies lob at him prick at his circuits the most. Blaster tries not to care, but he wonders: what do they know? do they trust him? Some of them hold pity in their gaze, those few who know facts and not whispered rumor, but all Blaster sees is hostile optics.

There's a desparation that twists him up, as he sees the inches that separate him and his fellow Autobots; they are only inches, but they keep increasing - inches become feet, become yards, become miles. Blaster could only ever love peace, love his music, love the bots around him. He could only ever be an Autobot and fight this war to its bitter end.

And he could only ever feel safe or at home in the arms of his enemy.


	2. The Nightlife  BlasterxSoundwave

**Title:** [none]

**Author:** iron valkyrie

**Rated:** PG

**Fandom:** Transformers G1 (pre-war au)

**Characters/Pairings:** Blaster, Soundwave, pre-slash.

**Summary:** Blaster's favorite customer is also his strangest. (Lol, what a bullshit summary. 3)

**Note:** This is... more or less based off this silly au my girlfriend and I have where Blaster is a dancer before the war. Uh. Long story short: all of my rps ever are just crack in disguise. And this au ended up being fun, so uh. :'D Have some ficthing.

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><p>Blaster grinned from behind the bar. That blue bot was here again, half-hidden behind his visor and moving with surety in Blaster's direction. The red dancer leaned against the bar, already sliding this strange bot's regular order to him as he sat down. Blaster gazed at him, light dancing in his optics. "Bot, why don'tcha ever come over when I'm on stage instead'a behind the bar?" he asked.<p>

He received a patient look as his customer swirled the contents of the cube around once before taking a sip. "You would prefer I ogle and gawk, rather than truly interact?" he asked. As usual, Blaster was taken in by his voice; a lot of his coworkers thought it unpleasantly harsh, but Blaster could listen to the melodic uptilts and downsways all night.

Blaster laughed softly. "Just funny how ya always show up when it's my night back here," he said, resting his chin in his palm. "If my schedule were th' same every megacycle it'd be different, but this's just uncanny."

"I have my ways."

Another peal of laughter soared from the red bot and over their heads, earning them several glances. "How mysterious." Blaster wiggled his fingers with the teasing awe of his voice. The small smile that curved the blue bot's lips gave him delight, even if it was brief. "So you ever gonna tell me yer name?"

Something clever seemed to flash behind that visor. "Perhaps if you are good."

Blaster raised an optic ridge. "Good at _what_, exactly?"

The blue bot smiled again, sipping again from his cube. "Your mind must be an interesting place, with the conclusions you leap to," he replied. "I should also inquire why I should give you my designation when you have not given me yours."

"I _did_ tell you mine," Blaster protested. And no, he was _not_ pouting. For the third time, that brief smile crossed his customer's lips, and Blaster felt his spark do an upsurge. Oh he had it bad.

"You told me your stage name."

Well, he had Blaster there. The dancer crossed his arms, studying the other bot. "Tell me yours and I'll tell you my real name."

"That is not what I proposed."

"Tough luck." For a moment, Blaster thought the blue bot might laugh - and wouldn't _that_ be something? He would have to make that happen one day. The red bot smirked. "What happens if I already know your name?"

Standing, the other bot shook his head. "It does not matter; you do not know my designation."

Blaster snorted. "Oh really?" The blue bot had turned to leave, even as amused as he'd seemed by the dancer. "Don't be so sure, Soundwave."

Freezing, Soundwave looked over his shoulder, a light frown on his lips. "How do you know that?" With the amount of suspicion that just leaped into his tone, Blaster wondered what on Cybertron his day job was. But he just grinned a wicked grin.

"I have my ways," he replied.


	3. Dust & Echoes BlasterxSoundwave

**Title:** Dust & Echoes

**Author:** iron valkyrie

**Rated:** PG-13

**Fandom:** Transformers G1/AU

**Characters/Pairings:** Blaster/Soundwave

**Summary:** Quiet, warm deserts are the perfect breeding ground for on-duty naps and vivid dreams.

**Warnings:** Non-con.

**Note:** Huge thanks to Ariel, Chris, and Zoe. (And Mar, for listening to me babble, even when she probably has no idea what I'm on about.)

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><p>This feeling of déjà vu was getting to him. Blaster couldn't place it. Usually nothing could distract him with Soundwave's hands moving over his plating.<p>

It wasn't even nearly the first time there'd been a dreamlike quality to this; in the darkness and still air, Soundwave's flat could seem downright eerie, as though Iacon existed on a separate plane than they and that nothing existed outside of these walls. Puffs of condensation dissipated into the air from their heaving vents – because of the many bots that tended to occupy this space regularly (Blaster, Soundwave, all of their cassettes...), Soundwave kept the temperature lower than average to even things out. The heat from their frames fogged their plating, the trails their fingertips traced out gleaming in the low light.

And yet the strangest thing – he didn't feel the cold. The air he pulled in with his intakes felt warm and somehow fragrant, nothing at all like the cool, controlled environment Soundwave provided.

Blaster arched beneath the blue frame, gasping as he felt Soundwave's mind brush carefully against his own, like a felinoid rubbing a greeting againsth is master's legs. He blinked, refocused his optics – there was a moment when he'd thought he saw a spot of purple on Soundwave's chassis. What on Cybertron – ? He was usually so meticulous about cleaning...

Soundwave twined their minds tighter and Blaster was soon thinking nothing of how strange this night felt, or why the sight of something emblazoned on Soundwave's front would cause such a feeling of dread.

And despite being so tightly wound with Soundwave, surrounded by warmth and affection, devotion and desire – the cold feeling in his spark did not subside.

After a moment, Soundwave leaned back. Blaster sighed, an apology on his lips until he focused his gaze and met the red optics gazing down at him. The remorse in them made his spark ache with an old familiar pain. Slowly he became more aware – Soundwave's appearance was subtly different. Only they appeared to be solid: the berth, the luxurious surroundings of the Iaconian flat... all blurry, insubstantial, and fading fast.

And there was that terrible symbol on his chassis.

"Apologies," he said. The sweet, harsh harmonics of his voice sent a shiver through Blaster's circuits.

"Shouldn' I be sayin' that?" Blaster whispered. Soundwave shook his head mutely. The color faded out from his plating, from the vague details of the flat as he remembered it, until it was all a silver-grey.

Before he could say anything more, everything dissolved.

x

Blaster awoke at his post outside the Ark, his optics overbright for a moment as he became aware of his surroundings. He sighed, relaxing back against the wall. Recharging on sentry duty – he was lucky no one had been around. Afternoons in the desert made it too easy to nod off.

His optics focused on the horizon. The setting sun painted the sky a familiar shade of red.

Blaster shook his head. What had been with that dream? He hadn't even realized he was dreaming until the end. It seemed like he had truly been interacting with Soundwave... but how many times had Blaster dreamed about him since the war tore them into their separate ways?

Despite the solitude that had allowed him to drift off in the first place, Blaster was relieved to be alone. There was time to process the whole thing, without feeling a need to be nice, or happy, or entertaining for anyone else at the same time.

What he did not notice were the imprints of pedes in the nearby sand; what he did not hear was the quiet call to a black felinoid to return.


	4. Twitter Prompts  Oct 6, 2011

Occasionally - usually when it's mind-numbingly slow at work - I ask for prompts from my twitter peeps. This is the first batch of those. :)

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><p>1 - "hurrrrrricane" (from shiome)<br>TFG1 | Thundercracker & Skywarp  
>Complete and utter silliness<p>

"Skywarp, what the _slag_ are you doing?"

Skywarp stared over at the sound of his wingmate's voice, optics wide in a terribly unconvincing display of innocence. "Nothin'."

Thundercracker just gave him a look. The pile of assorted junk and spare parts that looked to have been stolen hodge-podge from repair storage units certainly didn't look like 'nothing' to him. "Nothing," he repeated. Disbelief rolled from him in waves, from the tone of his voice to the lift of his wings.

For a grown bot to pout the way Skywarp did should disgust Thundercracker, but he didn't say anything. And later he _would_ tell Skywarp how stupid he looked, pouting on the floor with his little pile of "nothing" spread out before him. No, it was just more important to make sure that Skywarp didn't blow up any rooms again. The last time he tried to pull that "I'm innocent" look, he demolished his own room, as well as part of Thundercracker's, which left Skywarp essentially homeless, though he kept "accidentally" recharging on his floor. (Sure he could have let Skywarp beg off Starscream, but not even Thundercracker was that cruel - Megatron had promptly washed his hands of the details of _that_ conflict.)

As expected, Skywarp eventually cracked under the long scrutiny. "Alright! I'm making custom modifications!"

The horror that the very thought inspired came close to crashing one of his processing systems. The fact that Skywarp was so _happy_ about it only doubled the feeling. "You're _what_?"

"Well," he said, "Your ability is kind of lonely."

Thundercracker was sure he had run into some kind of communications block. When had his abilities come into this conversation? "Lonely," he repeated.

"Yeah! You're all thunder and no rainstorm!"

"But I don't _need_ a rainstorm, Skywarp." Bypass shock, advance straight to aching processors. One more reason to evict the other Seeker from his living space.

Skywarp crossed his arms. "Why not?"

"Because it's not _thunder_, they're sonic booms."

"Oh come on," Skywarp said, actually laughing at him. "Why else would you be named _Thundercracker_?"

Thundercracker stared at him. How did he ever start having these conversations? Why was he still participating in this one? "There's these things called _metaphors_, Skywarp," he retorted dryly.

"Whatever," Skywarp replied, waving a hand. "Now c'mere, I need to make sure I measure this stuff right."

"Skywarp, you are _not_ - "

They continued like this for a few breems. When Starscream walked in to ask something, since neither of them were responding to his comms, he found them wrestling on the floor amid a pile of debris and spare parts. They hadn't even noticed his entrance, and they certainly didn't notice him roll his optics and walk right back out of the room.

Honestly. He lived among sparklings.

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><p>(The second one was a LoZ prompt, so it went in a separate story!)<p>

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><p>3 - "sinking" (from Art)<br>TFG1 | Prowl/Sideswipe  
>Egads, the fluff!<p>

Eventually, Prowl had accepted him - with a warning. "I am not frivolous with my spark, Sideswipe," he'd said. Looking back, Sideswipe had agreed to that thoughtlessly; he had no reason to assume this would be different from any other relationship he'd had. He changed scenery often, and sometimes that included any bot he might be seeing. Sunstreaker had been his only constant in life - everything else was in for the fun, out when it bored him.

Prowl had been different from the beginning, though. Sideswipe was used to having and pursuing crushes, and he was so used to getting the bots he was interested in that he was completely blindsided by the tactician. He kept running into wall after wall trying to charm his way into Prowl's life, yet it did the very opposite of discourage him.

The chase made winning Prowl over all the more sweeter. And oh, how Sideswipe kept underestimating him.

One of the first warning signs that had Sideswipe running was routine. And yet it was so natural and subtle that he didn't notice, nor care. No, he didn't mind Prowl's tedious scheduling, just as Prowl didn't mind when he occasionally blazed through some of his careful planning and turned things on end when the frontliner got restless. A little dash of the unexpected did good things for the spark, Sideswipe always said.

Somehow, he'd started thinking of himself and Prowl as a default, rather than just himself (and his twin, who would always be a party of him) and it was startling to sit back and realize it, even though at the time it felt so natural - all of it felt so natural he didn't even notice sinking into a life with Prowl, adopting the tactician as his own without a thought.

Prowl was a warm current in his spark, and Sideswipe fully intended to keep him there.

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><p>4 - "broken mirrors" (from Masq)<br>TFG1 | Sunstreaker  
>Egads the angst. D:<p>

Shards of glass littered the ground around Sunstreaker's pedes, and his periphery sensors wouldn't let him forget it or stop reminding him that they were there and a potential danger if they somehow got into the grooves of his armor. The golden warrior shut the sensor warnings off manually; they were too late anyway. By punching the mirror, he'd already gotten tiny shards of glass embedded in the joints of his right hand, making it twinge painfully every few kliks. Ratchet would get himself worked up over it later, no doubt.

Sunstreaker was finding it hard to really care.

The broken reflection staring back at him seemed more fitting, anyway. He was not whole, never could be without Sideswipe. His need for his twin was so great that it shamed him, and he pushed his counterpart away at times, instinctively keeping his weaknesses at a distance.

But he just _had_ to be with him. Around him. Sunstreaker thrived off his attention, his smile, his presence against his own spark.

So why was it that Sideswipe didn't seem to need him?


	5. Twitter Prompts Oct 12, 2011

**1** - shiome - trine squabbles, optional TC/Warp  
><em>TFG1 | ThundercrackerSkywarp, Starscream | more silliness_ (this somehow ended up being related to the first drabble. uh. oops? |D)

Thundercracker sighed and shared a look with Skywarp over Starscream's shoulder. Their wingmate had been going on for nearly a breem about walking in on them doing one thing or another without his permission or something like that, blahdy blah blah, who cared? All they'd been doing _this_ time was installing a second berth in the room – Skywarp was apparently going to sleep on his floor (by choice _and_ his own fault) and then complain about it. Thundercracker didn't want to hear it, so he just went along with the 'second berth' idea.

"Starscream?" Thundercracker finally said. Fortunately he'd managed to break in before Starscream could start on a fresh tirade.

"Yes? What?"

"I thought you were our commanding officer, not our creator."

Skywarp snickered and Starscream's wings rose higher in his irritation. "I _am_ your commander and you'll treat me with the proper respect!"

Behind him, Skywarp let out another guffaw. "C'mon Screamer, it's just a slaggin' berth," he said.

Starscream whipped around. "_You_ should be finding your _own_ solutions, rather than snivelling to Thundercracker! You think you'd learn something from blowing your own room to the Pits! And _you_," he whirled back around on Thundercracker, "shouldn't be encouraging this juvenile behavior!"

Thundercracker frowned. "I am _not_ – "

"You know very well what he'll end up doing – "

"He's not a slagging sparkling, Starscream – "

"Well he certainly _acts_ like – "

The clamor of their voices rose and then halted completely, for Skywarp had appeared right in Thundercracker's lap. He smirked over his shoulder at Starscream. "TC _knows_ I'm not a sparkling," he purred, wrapping his arms behind Thundercracker's helm. The blue seeker went rigid in his seat, blatantly staring at his wingmate.

"_Warp_ – " He stopped with a scowl when Skywarp pinched his wing. Looking up at Starscream, he found an equally disturbed look on the Air Commander's face.

Scoffing, Starscream turned his back to them. "I did _not_ see that," he muttered.

"Oh good! Here's some more stuff you won't – "

"Enough!" Starscream stomped for the door. "Have your stinking berth! Don't come whining to _me_ with any problems."

"We don't." Thundercracker's voice was as flat as his expression. Huffing, Starscream marched from the room. The remaining two sighed in relief.

"Nice, Warp. I thought he'd never leave. Or shut up."

Skywarp snorted. "Yeah, me neither."

Shaking his head, Thundercracker prodded Skywarp's cockpit. "Get up."

"Wha?"

Thundercracker rolled his optics. "Get _off_, scrapface," he said, shoving at the purple seeker again.

His wingmate stared down at him. "Don't wanna."

Thundercracker narrowed his optics. "Sparkling," he snorted, shaking his head.

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><p><strong>2 -<strong>  
><em>TFGI | BlasterSideswipe | fluff!_ (I saw Blaster + small and my brain jumps to cassettes, so sue me |D)

Blaster always regretted showing anyone his cassettes. It led to awkward questions and judgements – it was easy to assume that they were simply sparklings (especially Eject and Rewind), and breaking off a sparkbond was an enormous social stigma, not to mention the health risks involved. But symbiotes were so rare that it was hard to get anyone to believe that that's what his cassettes were to him.

But he felt close enough to Sideswipe to include him in this part of his life. And he bolstered himself by remembering that Sideswipe was a twin; he'd understand more about rare spark conditions.

"So, they stay in your chassis?" the red bot was asking him. Blaster lifted a hand to his front, feeling the warmth of his cassettes near his spark.

"Mostly," Blaster replied. "It opens to a subspace compartment." He shifted low in his seat while Sideswipe gave him a thoughtful gaze.

"Well," he finally said. Blaster braced. "Are you gonna keep telling me about them or do I get to meet them?"

Blaster sat up in his chair again, a grin alighting his features. "Of course ya can meet them," he said warmly.


	6. Twitter Prompts Oct 19, 2011

**1 -** eerian_sadow - "bright, shining people"

_TFG1 | Blaster/Soundwave | semi-angsty crap_ YES I STILL MANAGED TO MAKE THIS DEPRESSING, EERIAN. xD; goddamn these two.

The humans onstage glowed in their excitement. Their music threatened to blow his audios, but considering Blaster had picked the concert this time, Soundwave wasn't surprised by the loudness. Nor did he mind; that type of music held special meaning to him now. And it was another night spent in Blaster's company, so it was worth it regardless.

A night spent in Blaster's company was always worth it. Even if he was paralyzed with longing and fear, and he had to stifle the urge to brush even lightly against Blaster's mind. He only wanted just a little, only to gauge Blaster's true mood and whether he got more enjoyment than suffering out of these meetings. But he could not risk it. He would have to take it on faith, since Blaster kept showing up each of these nights.

Soundwave did not like taking things on faith.

He did not like how carefully they handled each other, when they had once been as carefree as the humans on the stage and in the crowd, hurling themselves at each other wantonly. Now they talked little, always skirting to "safe" topics – the music and its quality, the night air, their cassettes (though they tread lightly with that, too). Soundwave could not find this satisfactory – this lacked a depth, a quality that used to be prevalent between them.

No, he could never be satisfied with this, but he also couldn't make a move. He could not reach out with his mind, or his hand, or his spark. Not without fearing he'd drive Blaster away.

Slowly, Soundwave began to understand why so many bots longed for the end of the war.

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><p><strong>2 <strong>- shiome - more of the derpy seeker saga

_TFG1 | Thundercracker/Skywarp | silly, silly, silly, silly, silly_ and tc is always grumpy

"TC?"

Thundercracker sighed, scowling at the dark room. "_What_?" Skywarp was determined not to let him recharge tonight. This "installing a berth so you aren't passed out on my floor and I trip all over you" business was turning out not to be the most intelligent idea he'd ever had.

Not that he'd ever admit that to Starscream.

"I'm startin' to think I'm right under one of the vents in here."

Thundercracker frowned. "Skywarp, what are you, a sparkling?"

"No!" Skywarp protested. Loudly. "It's fraggin' _cold_ over here, okay?"

Thundercracker rolled over, tucking his wings carefully. "Good luck with that."

"Aw, but _TC_! I can't recharge like this!"

Seriously. A sparkling.

"So you're going to deprive me of mine?" he growled. "Find your warm spot of floor or whatever."

"But then you'll get angry at me in the mornin' again."

Thundercracker just barely heard his mumbling. Sighing, he rolled over again and stood up. "You are the whiniest slagging 'Con..."

Balancing on the other berth on his knees, he felt blindly for the supposed vent. "Warp, I don't think there's a – " Skywarp shifted his legs and sent Thundercracker tumbling with a surprised curse.

"Uh, sorry," Skywarp said, voice right in his audio.

"There's no vent," Thundercracker replied, voice dry.

"Oh. Well, it's warmer now, anyway."

"That's because your clumsy self tripped me!"

"Mmh."

Thundercracker frowned at that, trying to extricate himself from the clumsy pile of limbs they'd created. Skywarp wasn't moving, which made it difficult. In fact... "Skywarp." No answer. Oh he had _not..._ "Oh you slaghead, _wake up._"

Nothing. Out like the damned lights. Thundercracker made a noise of frustration. "Why me?" he lamented.

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><p><strong>3 <strong>- primusatemyleg - Skyfire/anyone, "poor focus"

_TFG1 | Skyfire/Perceptor, a vague hint at Skyfire/Starscream _

"Skyfire?"

Skyfire blinked and looked down at Perceptor, whose face was drawn in concern. "I'm sorry, Perceptor," he said. "My mind drifted. What did you say?"

That was a half-truth, but Skyfire didn't feel like explaining how his every sensor had come alive when he'd thought he heard the whine of jet engines nearby. Or that he was still listening for them even now, despite hearing nothing. And still not paying attention to Perceptor's discourse on the flora samples they'd been collecting.

Skyfire's wings fell as Perceptor once again asked for his input. "I do apologize, Perceptor," he said quietly, though he wouldn't look at his fellow scientist.

Perceptor regarded him patiently. "This isn't like you, Skyfire," he said. And though it was a simple observation, Skyfire's spark still sank.

"I know, I'm sorry. Maybe I'll be of more use back in the lab."

The smaller bot gazed at him a moment longer before agreeing and leading the way back to the Ark.

Once again, Skyfire thought he could hear the screech of jet engines flying away above their heads.

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><p><strong>4<strong> - Masq - "sticky situation"

_TFG1 | Sideswipe/Sunstreaker | this is just. crack._ I don't even know where it came from ga;kldfjsklfsjgdkls what are you even doing in my head Sideswipe

Sideswipe knew that he had the best way to get back at his twin and he could hardly contain himself. Of course, he had to be careful not to brush against the wall. Or lean against anything. Or sit down, or let anything touch his backside in general.

But that was no big deal. This would be _good_.

Finding Sunstreaker never lent Sideswipe any difficulty; right now his counterpart was lounging in their shared quarters, reading a datapad. The red twin grinned as he approached the door. Yes, he couldn't wait – he was surprised that his excitement and anticipation hadn't practically flooded their bond and tipped his brother off to _something_.

Sunstreaker still reclined without much of a care to what Sideswipe might be brewing, nor did he notice (or rather, not pay attention) his twin come in the room. Sideswipe smirked. Let Sunstreaker ignore him for the moment. He'd be paying plenty of attention before long.

"Heya Sunny," Sideswipe said, hands resting on his hips.

Nothing. Not even a glance his way. The red bot frowned and shifted his weight to the opposite pede.

"Aw, don't be like that, Sunny," he cooed.

Sunstreaker sent a biting glare his way. "Stop calling me that."

"You let Bluestreak call you that." No, Sideswipe was not pouting. Not at all.

"Bluestreak isn't obnoxious," he replied with a snort.

Sideswipe crossed his arms over his chassis, narrowing his optics at his twin before marching across the room to the chair Sunstreaker sat in. With surprising agility, he plucked the datapad from Sunstreaker's hands and tossed it onto the nearest berth. Now the full blast of Sunstreaker's icy glare was on him, but Sideswipe had endured worse.

"_Sideswipe_." Sunstreaker's voice was a rumble of warning.

And yet Sideswipe plopped right into Sunstreaker's lap, bringing his face up close to the golden bot's. "But Bluestreak isn't here, ready to give you _lots_ of attention on your day off," he murmured. His optics glowed warmly. "I am."

He could tell he was getting places. Sunstreaker hadn't pushed him away, nor was he continuing to growl at him. And try as he might to be aloof, Sideswipe could read the subtle changes in him – the downshift in his posture, the light in his optics, the forced scowl on his lips. No, he definitely had Sunstreaker's attention right now.

Just as planned.

Grinning, Sideswipe shifted over his brother's lap, his rear poked teasingly in the air. And as he anticipated, that's where Sunstreaker's hands moved.

And stuck.

_Gotcha,_ the red bot thought, positively gleeful. He tilted his head, pressing a kiss to Sunstreaker's jaw.

"Sideswipe..."

Sideswipe concealed his grin against his twin's neck. "Yes?"

"My hands are stuck." Sunstreaker didn't sound impressed _at all._ Snickering, he lifted his head, bright optics meeting the flat look on his twin's face. "You _didn't_."

"Oh but I did!" Sideswipe cackled.

"You slaghead! What has _possessed_ you? Now what are we going to do? I doubt you're any more capable of unsticking this than I am!"

"There's plenty we can do, I already told you that..." he purred back. "As for the rest, well... you'll just have to give Ratchet a call, won't you?"

Sunstreaker scowled at him. "_You_ will be calling Ratchet, you glitch! I don't believe this..."

And that was when Sideswipe fell to pieces laughing in his twin's lap.


	7. Twitter Prompts Jan 10, 2012

**1 - **eerian_sadow - Blaster/Soundwave; "weep not for the memories"  
><em>TFG1 | BlasterSoundwave, cassettes abound | angst. and more angst. also character death._ :| I cannot deal with this two, aughh

The eerie cry which rose above the destruction kept Soundwave on the battlefield, a chill in his circuits. Even though it seemed only he, his symbiotes, and the fallen soldiers remained here (all others had retreated from the brutal site), he stayed, stepping gingerly through the aftermath. Something had made that sound – he intended to find out what.

Somewhere in the depths of his spark, he sensed the answer. The way the cassettes in chassis quaked with that wail of mourning... But Soundwave would not acknowledge the conclusion, despite the sick quiver in his spark. Not without seeing with his own optics. Not without facts.

The haunting cry lifted into the air once more. Soundwave gazed down at Ravage before following the cassette toward the sound's source. They were far out on what had been the edges of the skirmish now. He hardly believed there had been any bystanders, but – who would be all the way over here? The epicenter had been at least two Hics from this region.

For a third time, Soundwave heard the lament begin again – except this time he was close enough to hear it cut off by a terribly familiar voice.

"C'mon now, stop all that fuss, Steeljaw. Ain't doin' a thing any good."

A different, more trumpeting sound raised at this; it was also quieted down. Spark heavy, Soundwave continued forward with measured steps. As he stepped around the large boulder blocking his view, he kicked a rock, alerting the little family just before him to his presence. Just as quick as Steeljaw turned around with a warning growl, Blaster reflexively pointed his gun at the blue bot. His expression changed in a small twitch, but he kept the weapon trained on Soundwave, though his arm wavered and failed to keep the gun steady.

Soundwave found his dread confirmed – it was with good reason that Blaster couldn't hold his weapon steadily. One of his legs curled mangled and useless beneath him, but that was nothing next to the damage wreaked upon his chassis. The red metal was bent and twisted, blackened from laserfire – and the piercing shot, which must have hit him from behind. Soundwave could see the irregular flicker of sparklight from the gutting hole in the red bot's chassis; it was far too faint for his comfort. There was too much energon pooled around him, behind him in a trail where he'd been dragged away from the scene of the conflict by his cassettes, on his frame...

"What're you doin' here?" Blaster said. He finally gave up with the gun, letting it rest next to his leg. For the first time, Soundwave noticed that one of his cassettes was cradled in his lap. Eject. "Thought Megatron called the retreat."

"Correct," Soundwave said. He stepped closer, though still a respectful distance – especially with Ramhorn and Steeljaw in mind, who were hunched defensively in front of Blaster. "Soundwave: heard noise. Investigation required."

Blaster snorted. "You really givin' me that treatment? Guess it don't matter how ya talk to me anymore, though," he added, shaking his head. "I told Steeljaw to quit makin' a racket."

Soundwave remained silent for a moment. "Query: what happened?" He had trouble believing the Autobots would leave Blaster behind.

"Long story," the red bot grunted. "I wasn' supposed to be here today, but Prowl asked for Ramhorn's help..." He shrugged. "Ended up not bein' able to let him just be here alone, so..." He gestured vaguely with his hand.

"Your chassis..."

"Vicous battle, man," Blaster said, shrugging a shoulder. He winced, apparently regretting that action, but ignoring it, running a hand over Eject's helm. The cassette was too still.

"He saved Ramhorn," Rewind piped up from Blaster's side. "Ramhorn was in trouble and he scooped him up, took the blow..." And at this, Soundwave gazed over at Ramhorn; he could see scorchmarks across his belly, but only superficial damage.

"Details," Blaster muttered, still more concerned with Eject. "He tried doin' the same for me, when that happened," he added softly, nodding at his crumpled leg. "Now he's hurt... should'a left 'em all back on the Ark."

Soundwave moved forward again, showing empty hands to Ramhorn and Steeljaw as he approached Blaster. His spark twisted; the damage looked all the worse up close. "You cannot call your medic?"

Blaster shook his head, staring down at the small bot in his lap. "Commlink's busted," he said.

Their gazes met. Something seemed to pass through Blaster's gaze, something Soundwave understood and yet found terrifying. "I could call."

A lopsided smile crept onto the red bot's face. "You know I can't give you them frequencies," he replied. "Besides, why should you do a good deed for a fallen Autobot?"

"Blaster..." Soundwave did not think of him as merely an Autobot, and Blaster damn well knew it.

"Don't," he said. His smile was suddenly gone, optics dim with exhaustion, expression flat. A single word, yet it spoke volumes to the blue bot. Knowing the speaker for countless vorns before this war certainly helped, though it didn't ease the fresh ache of his spark. Once he was sure Soundwave had quieted, Blaster let a little smile onto his lips again. "Ain't worried about myself," he said. "Just... Eject. I was stupid. Should'a paid attention."

An absurdity sprung from Soundwave's vocals before he could stop it. "I will care for him." Surely the rest of Blaster's symbiotes could manage to get Eject to their base – or at least, he was certain Steeljaw could get there quickly, and lead the Autobots back. And by then...

Soundwave's gaze focused on the guttering sparklight still visible from Blaster's chassis. Blaster wasn't laughing at him this time. "Meanin' what?"

"His frame design is similar to Rumble and Frenzy's. I can repair him."

Blaster studied him for a long moment. "Y'know I'll have to send the rest, then... make sure he's okay."

Soundwave nodded once. "That is... acceptable."

Blaster smiled again. "Good," he said softly. Soundwave knelt at his side, gently taking Eject into his arms. He found himself unwilling to move until he could say something, express something – about this gulf that stood between them and yet seemed easily crossed, about countless vorns of the ache and pull of his spark, about long-ago nights in Iacon when everything felt new beneath old, old stars – but there were no words. And there was Blaster's smile, telling him no words were needed. "Don't," he repeated. _I know,_ his smile said.

"You are not concerned with leaving your symbiotes in the hands of a Decepticon?"

Blaster chuckled softly. "Won't be worried about much of anythin' after a while," he replied. Relaxing back against the rock, he let out a long vent. "'Sides, you ain't just any ol 'Con."

Soundwave stood, gazing down at him. "I suppose you are correct."

"'Course I am," Blaster said. "So long as you can handle 'em."

"I can."

Blaster smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>2 <strong>- Art - Sunstreaker and Bluestreak making comments about how long Prowl and Sideswipe will be at it this time

_TFG1 | Sunstreaker, Bluestreak (hinted Sunstreaker/Bluestreak, or maybe pre-slash for them, I dunno THEY'RE VERSATILE), Smokescreen, mentions Prowl/Sideswipe | silliness!_

When Bluestreak first caught sight of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, he knew. But still he played ignorant, throwing a cheery smile on his face as he approached their table. Though he had to admit, even if he couldn't tell just by looking, the way Sideswipe quickly found a reason to excuse himself would have given it away.

He shared a look with Sunstreaker as he sat down in place of Sideswipe, taking a sip from his cube. "Again?"

The golden twin snorted. "Last night," he muttered, nursing his own energon. Evidently his rest had been disturbed, and he was _not_ pleased.

"No wonder Prowl locked himself in his office." Bluestreak sighed. "What on Cybertron do they find to fight about, anyway? It's like the same little things you and Sideswipe would argue about. Silly stuff – I mean, you expect it with siblings, but..."

"It's Prowl. And Sideswipe. I'm sure they find _plenty_ to fight about," Sunstreaker retorted.

"Well – yeah, I guess. Maybe they get hung up on stuff that was said in anger? I mean, you two do that a lot, too..." Bluestreak frowned over at his scowling companion; what he said was true, he'd seen the twins repeat the cycle for vorns. "What? Did I say something?"

"_We_ don't get 'hung up' – Sideswipe acts like his normal idiot self and then gets offended when I tell him so."

Bluestreak covered his laughter with another gulp from his energon cube. "Right," he said, shaking his head. He sighed again. "I just hope they aren't at it for long this time. Remember when they had that fight and barely looked at each other for a megacycle? That was awful..." The Datsun's doors sank on his back at the memory. "Did he tell you what happened?"

Sunstreaker snorted again. "He did, but I doubt you _really_ want to know. Unless you can get it from Prowl."

"I have a better chance of wrestling Motormaster," Bluestreak murmured, pouting. "How long do you think they'll be at it this time? I hope it's not a long time, Prowl is so grumpy when they're fighting. Which makes him and Smokescreen get into it more, sometimes, and where does that leave me?"

The golden bot shook his head again. "I think they're a little too addicted to each other to stay away too long."

"Would you like to bet on that?"

The pair looked up at the new voice, seeing Smokescreen. An _amused_ Smokescreen. That bore ill for some poor bot somewhere down the line. Sunstreaker turned away again, watching as Bluestreak idly pushed his empty cube around the table. "Not if _you're_ running the pool."

"Aw, come on now," the older Datsun said with a grin. "Don't you trust me?"

"About as far as Bluestreak can throw you," was the dry retort. Bluestreak giggled as Smokescreen's doorwings flicked irritably.

"I don't know what he sees in you," Smokescreen muttered, crossing his arms beneath his bumper.

"You wouldn't," the Lamborghini scoffed. "How'd you hear so quickly, anyway? I doubt Prowl or Sideswipe talked to you about it."

The older Datsun narrowed his optics. "Jazz," he said eventually.

"How did _Jazz_ know?" Sunstreaker grumbled. Fragging Jazz, sneaky little slag...

Smokescreen laughed heartily. "Are you kidding? Jazz can take one look at Prowl and know something's wrong. Drives him _crazy_."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Sunstreaker muttered. For Prowl, who was typically an enigma to the Autobots serving beneath him, to be an open book to his best friend... He reached out a hand to still Bluestreak's; he would go nutty himself if the grey bot kept batting their empty cubes around that way.

Bluestreak laughed, though he shot a sheepish look over at Sunstreaker. "Well, if we had any energon left, I'd raise a toast to this wartime skirmish ending with no casualties," he said. Smokescreen laughed as they murmured a Cybertronian amen.


	8. Misapprehension BlasterxSoundwave

_**Misapprehension**_  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Transformers G1  
><strong>Rating:<strong> G  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Blaster/Soundwave  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Soundwave ponders the crowds' interpretations of his interactions with Blaster.

* * *

><p>One in particular he found curious, and it struck him again as he sat here next to Blaster in an upper-level park.<p>

As usual, his companion happily chattered along with little input required from Soundwave; that had been one thing he found enjoyable about Blaster. He'd quickly picked up that Soundwave was simply taciturn, not disinterested, and moved on in their acquaintance.

But the undercurrent Soundwave gleaned from the crowds was a false impression; that Blaster tried too hard, that Soundwave wasn't interested in what he was saying, that Soundwave was ignoring him – _he should just give up,_ he heard, over and over again. _That bot has no interest in him._

How strange, Soundwave thought. These passersby knew nothing of them, but they gave judgement so swiftly. They couldn't know that Blaster just liked to talk, and Soundwave liked to listen.

And he especially liked Blaster's voice.


End file.
